


Burn

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 7x10, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Fluff, Gap Filler, M/M, Riding, Sexual Content, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Just filling in some of the gaps starting from the docks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> honestly having so much trouble pinning down any ideas, and I probably should wait til i've fully processed the episode, but like....fuck that, right? What they gave us was nice and all, but still? with the cutting away? really? and don't get me started on the bogus implications. anyway, i just wanted to get this out so maybe my brain won't be so messed up.

Ian slowly moved the black strands of hair at the back of Mickey's neck, making him shiver despite the cold night air coming off the water. He pressed his lips to the spot just below his ear, simultaneously trying to breathe him in and bury himself deeper. he does it again, nosing and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive patch of skin he'd discovered long ago when Mickey couldn't even let himself feel what it did to him.

"Fuck," Mickey breathes out, barely on his lips like the slight wind on his face. But he doesn't feel that so much. He feels the heat of Ian behind him, and he needs him closer. He reaches back and pulls; a handful of Ian he never wants to let go of, but he can't get his hopes up. He's amazed and relieved they've gotten this far. He closes his eyes and licks his lips, feeling Ian hard against his ass. He feels a finger pressing at him and it makes his breath stop in his chest. He feels it be replaced and he wants to shout.

Ian can feel how gone Mickey is already and he's only just begun to push in. He's tight. So tight, Ian sees stars for a second and needs to calm himself in Mickey's scent. He keeps moving forward, taking Mickey's hand and slapping it to the boat tarp to steady them. He thrusts in and out carefully, feeling the drag as he sinks in further. Mickey pushed back against him, following his movements and letting Ian take control and engulf him. It's familiar and Ian is instantly overwhelmed.

Mickey tightens his fingers on Ian's, ignoring the initial dry push and pull but also being overtaken by memories of baseball fields and alleys when they weren't prepared. Ian begins to pump in and out, getting deeper and deeper. Mickey pants, exposing the other side of his neck when Ian suddenly pulls him back so he's finally fully inside him. Their hips are locked so tight, Mickey thinks Ian will just keep going and completely penetrate his body so they can never be separated again.

"Shit...missed you," Ian says, not even thinking about what he's saying. But he keeps grinding up on Mickey's ass, snapping his hips because at last his precum has spread enough not to make it painful for Mickey. He isn't complaining, but Ian knows they haven't done it like this in a while, getting used to a bed and privacy and time. He finds himself at Mickey's ear again, licking and kissing and grunting.  "Missed this," he admits, and he knows exactly what he's saying because he's been thinking it ever since the bleachers. He's still afraid of how badly he wanted Mickey then and still wants him now. He picks up his pace.

"Fuck...fuck, Ian," it's loud enough for Ian to chuckle behind him and shush him. He shuts him up further with a kiss, using the time their tongues are engaged to grip his hips and start to yank him back into every thrust, harder and harder so their skin slaps together. The slide is unbelievable now, with just enough friction to have Mickey gasping for air when Ian lets his bottom lip go. He comes hard, heat rising in him and totally burning him from the inside out. 

"Oh fuck," Ian groans, feeling Mickey clenching around him. He knows he's sensitive when he starts to pull away a bit but Ian follows, keeping them together firmly. His hand snakes around and under his shirt, feeling the bottom edge stained with warm come. Mickey's stomach flutters against his touch, still shaking from his release. He feels so hot, Ian is sure they'll melt together. He slows down, making sure to stay away from Mickey's prostate. Mickey reaches back, running his hand through the hair at the back of his neck. It feels like they're catching on fire, as his orgasm hits; blazing through him and into Mickey.

It ignited them again. They're pulling and pushing at each other, grinning and kissing. They don't even realize it when they stop and hold each other for who knows how long. Mickey touches Ian's face and Ian bends to him, chasing the feel of his inked fingers on him. Neither of them speak for a long moment, just listening to the other breathing mixed with the sounds of the water slapping against the boats.

Ian gathers his clothes, while Mickey fixes his own. They grab their coats and Mickey leads Ian by the hand back the way Ian had come.

"Where are we--" Ian starts to ask, looking over his shoulder for anyone who might be watching them. But he let's Mickey keep pulling him, following his every footstep into the dark.

"Van," Mickey answers, as it comes into view parked behind some trees and bushes.

Ian wonders how he hadn't seen it before, figuring Mickey had taken the extra precaution and circled around once it was parked. Had he seen him?

It's pitch black except for the spots of moonlight between the leaves. Mickey can feel Ian nervously standing close behind him as he feels for the rigged latch on the van door. It makes a bad feeling creep up his neck that quickly gets pushed down as he flings the door open. He turns to Ian and grins.

"You getting in?" He raises an eyebrow, rubbing at his swollen lips. He means it to be a genuine question, although maybe his face doesn't look like it. The truth is, he's desperate and needy but he knows this could all easily go up in flames. He knows Ian. He knows Ian likes room to run; always on his terms whether he knows it or not. So he climbs in and shuffles around for something so he doesn't have to hear whatever conclusion Ian comes to.

Ian looks inside after Mickey. His feet feel heavy and light at the same time. The weight of them could be impossible to shake if he turned and began walking away, or he could follow Mickey and never feel anything lighter in his life. He thinks that's what he wants to do. He wants to feel light. He climbs up into the van.

"Can't see shit."

Mickey turns, his heart pounding in his chest when the door is shut firmly behind Ian and he's standing inches away, hunched over and squinting. Mickey snorts and reaches for him, pulling him down onto the pile of furniture blankets lining the bottom of the van and doing nothing to counteract the hard metal. Ian's knees hit it hard and he groans into Mickey's mouth. They pull apart and laugh at themselves.

Ian shivers. It's cold, but he feels Mickey's heat and leans closer into it, pushing him down until he's lying on top of him between his legs. He kisses him soft and hard and in between, changing the pressure and devouring Mickey's mouth without abandon. A thought in his mind says  _nothing like kissing him,_ and he pushes it down so far it scares him how easily he does it. He grabs Mickey's ass and squeezes, then moves to his stomach and can't help but tickle him if only to hear him laugh.

Mickey pushes Ian off of him. "Fucker," he grins and his head hurts from the way Ian is smirking at him like old times. Like nothing's changed. Like they haven't changed. Mickey hasn't, he thinks. Not as much as the tall broad-shouldered redhead daring him to do something about it with his green eyes. And fuck does he want to do so many things about it right then. One of which being telling him how stupid he's being and forcing him to go back home, but he tramples that like a cigarette under his boot and grinds it down so he doesn't have to think about it. He lights a cigarette, if only for the hot light as he inhales.

Ian takes the cigarette when Mickey offers. He fills his lungs with smoke then breathes out whatever doesn't push him closer to death. Mickey is watching him. He thinks he sees something in his face like fear, but all he sees is bright blue orbs that seem to find the light despite the circumstances.

"Hungry?" Mickey asks, searching around.

"Starving. Missed dinner..." Ian says, although it was really because he couldn't bring himself to eat anything. His stomach had been in knots since morning. Mickey tosses him a plastic bag. He looks inside to find Slim JIms and Pringles, only the wrappers of candy bars. He chuckles and tosses the bag back. "I'm good." Mickey shrugged, tossing it back where he found it. "Where'd Damon go?"

Mickey scratches under his beanie. "Had some loose ends to tie up."

"Collecting?"

"Fuck if I know. I'm not his keeper," Mickey gripes, more at the idea of possibly losing his second if shit goes south on his end. "He'll be back later to move us," he adds, seeing the look on Ian's face.

They're quiet for an eternity it seems. 

"Thought we'd...uh, forget how to do that," Mickey says quietly, but it sounds loud in the empty van.

Ian thinks for a moment, small smile forming, then shrugs. "Just like riding a bike, right?" he smirks, taking another drag before passing the cigarette back to Mickey. Then he looks away and thinks about his next words. "Actually...haven't been doing much of the fucking lately." He doesn't know why he's saying this.

Mickey's eyebrows raise slowly, not sure what to think about what Ian could possibly mean by that. He has an odd hope that maybe Ian had been lying about a boyfriend like someone who wants to sound like it was easy to find someone new. But that's not Ian, unfortunately. And Mickey doesn't think he needs to hear whatever explanation Ian might offer. He feels a twinge of guilt and sadness. Ian is not the same Ian. He's not the pushy, cocky fuck who wanted what Mickey couldn't give him when they started. Ian's wants were different now. Or maybe not as much as he wants to believe.

"How's that fun for you?" Mickey asks.

Ian looks up and meets Mickey's eyes. How is it they keep exchanging the same words after all these years?

He doesn't answer.

"He the only one?" Mickey doesn't care. He can't. It's never been them, even when it was them for a while. He told Ian to lie to him, not lie to himself.

Ian shakes his head. "One other. Firefighter. Fucking disaster. Got a job out of it, though."

Mickey nods his head to the side, bites a hangnail he's sure left a scratch on Ian somewhere. "That all you got?"

Ian swallows, watching Mickey attack his rogue nail. It's a distraction. He doesn't want to talk about this just as bad as he wants to hear every detail. He can see it on his face, hear it in his voice.

"Got a thing for uniforms, huh?"

There it is. Classic Mickey. He's done with chatting, wants to move on...wants to get on something else. Ian grabs onto it desperately. Anything not to relive his past and the present he's left outside the van. They seem to be in a timeless bubble, except the time is actually moving so fast they can't see it whirling them into daylight and decisions.

"Yeah, you know me."

"Orange do anything for you?" Mickey stubs out the cigarette and abandons his finger.

Ian knows this. They do this well. It's stupid, falling back on old shit when they'd been steadily creeping towards something better....communicating, blurting out feelings in the dead of night under warm blankets, cuddling closer without any words at all.

"Yeah, a little," Ian crawls closer until he's in Mickey's face.

Mickey's eyes dart all over Ian's face. He bites his lip, heart picking up speed.

"How 'bout this?" Mickey gestures to himself with his head, looking up at Ian through his lashes and not hiding his smug smile.

Ian nods, grabbing Mickey's chin and pressing their lips together slowly. Mickey opens his mouth wide and Ian does the same so only their tongues are sliding against each other. Ian licks against the roof of Mickey's mouth as Mickey's rubs along his tongue. They close the kiss, pressing their foreheads together and breathing hard. They grab at each other, roughly pulling at clothes, but only the necessary ones. Mickey kicks his pants and boxers off, while Ian undoes his jeans again.

"Lay down," Ian pants, pushing at Mickey's chest until he's lying flat. He kisses him then moves to his neck. He stops and pulls the collar of his shirt down until inked letters come into view still wrong but not so red and disturbing. He kisses it softly, feeling Mickey's hands in his hair.

Mickey sighs, feeling Ian's mouth on his chest. being gentle with him for a moment before continuing to ravage him. Ian quickly takes his dick into his mouth and sucks hard, bobbing his head up and down and swirling his tongue. It seems almost desperate the way he does it, like he's missed doing it. Which makes no sense to Mickey, but nothing does right now. Ian hums and moans and whispers he likes cock to absolutely no one but himself. Mickey's fingers thread through his hair and he moans out loud when Ian stops deep-throating him to suck his balls like they're going out of style. Ian's drool pools down his crack and under his ass, and he uses it to ease a finger into him.

"Oh holy fuck!" Mickey cries out.

Ian can't help himself. He's missed the taste and smell and feel of hard hot flesh on his tongue and down his throat. It's too much after being so long with plastic, and it's not enough not that he has it back and it's Mickey. It's all Mickey and it's all good. He swipes his tongue next to the finger fucking Mickey's hole, and knows he can't even go back. Not for real. Not ever. He needs this. Mickey is trembling, his thighs closing around his head and Ian can't stop smiling.

Mickey can't take it. He pushes Ian down and gets his mouth on him. Just as eager and just as needy. It's so instinctual and intense, he only chokes a little but only because he wants to feel the burn in the back of his throat.

"Oh my God, Mick!" Ian pets Mickey's scruffy cheek, feeling it hollow and stretch around him. Mickey's mouth is gone then. He straddles him and lines himself up, sliding all the way down Ian's cock until he's fully seated. He doesn't wait to adjust and Ian doesn't make him. Ian groans loudly, hearing it reverberate back at him and all around them, as Mickey begins to ride him hard and rough and just how he likes it.

Ian grabs Mickey by his hips, practically bruising them, but he lets Mickey do what he wants. He lets him go fast using his chest as leverage, and he lets him go slow as he leans down to kiss him like nothing before.

They go until they can't anymore. Panting and sighing and holding onto each other, as they come with  _I love you_ 's on their lips.

They clean up and pull blankets over themselves, using their coats as pillows and each other for grounding them in reality and warmth.

Ian only wakes up once during the night to take a piss, stumbling out of the van and not bothering to fix his jeans in favor of hurrying back. He watches Mickey sleep for a few minutes, wondering what the hell he thinks he's even doing. But he settles behind him, pulling him close to his chest and linking their fingers together. Kissing Mickey when he stirs a little, then falling asleep. He's only vaguely aware of the van moving in his tired stupor.

The next time he wakes up it's morning. Even though he can't see where they are, he knows they're in a different spot than the night before. Damon doesn't seem to be around either. He doesn't know how he feels about the guy.

Ian can hear his phone ringing somewhere, but he presses his nose to Mickey's back and inhales.

It burns through him and it's all Mickey.


End file.
